Shishkaberry by Saints

toasted n’ posted proudly presents…

Shishkaberry by Saints

 

Shishkaberry by Saints

Welcome back to toasted n’ posted where we are always seeking ways to ignite our senses. I am overjoyed to announce that I will be reviewing three provocative strains from Saints (formerly Seattle Green Bud) over the next three entries. So be sure to tune in and turn up. I must admit, Shishkaberry is uncharted territory for me. While it is clearly marked as an indica, I’m uncertain of what to expect.

The parents of this unique strain are Blueberry and The Red. I’d venture to say that I’m overly familiar with Blueberry, but have no experience with The Red. I always appreciate a newcomer to the mental database! I expect The Red to inspire the classic Blueberry notes I’ve grown to know into a brilliant metamorphosis. We also have the good fortune of knowing the THC content of 16.2%. We will take that into consideration, but will in no way let silly numbers hinder our experience. Let’s get skewered by Shishkaberry!

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I break the seal to unravel the mysteries that lay within. Flooding out of the gate is a sweet, flowery, sugary syrup. I felt as if I was being encased in a tomb of gelatinous fruit. My nostrils were drowned in a dark raspberry jam trailed by claps of powdered sugar. A delicate, sour, tartness embraces the edge of the amorphous fruity fist. Discernibly more blueberry notes tremble on the cusp of the fragrance. The berry sheaths entertain a butter kiss, similar to the flakes wavering off of a cooling pastry.

Beneath the bold berry bolts is the softened resolve of a grassy meadow tested by an early morning rain. A chorus of invigorating herbal moisture resounds throughout nearly every aspect of this amiable profile. Shifting atop the sodden terrain is a salad of gooey, earthy, berry sounding off qwasi-afghan impressions. I find myself chasing a tentative gassy tang in the wake of this note.

In hopes of provoking more of the ferocious pungency, I rip the buds open under my nose. Some flakes flew straight to my brain, I swear. Electrified whips of sticky blueberry thrash around a refreshing herbal humidity. Warm damp stews with the shockwaves of sugary, berry zest. When provoked Shishkaberry pulls out all of the stops and projects scathing jets of blueberry. The righteous lightning carves into slabs of writhing wet earth, powdered in a fruit-derived sugar. I wish I could jar this flood of flavor and unleash it over my next pile of pancakes.

When I first gazed upon Shishkaberry, I thought the colors were extremely bright but it was a visual trick played by the frosty campaign of trichomes. Shishkaberry is demonstrates a wealth of vivid color, so it is easy to get lost in the tossing shades and glimmering trichome heads. The foliage shifts from a yellowed pear, to an icy fern, to a punished pine and lastly; a luscious shade of purple caught somewhere between eggplant and raisin. Shishkaberry is certainly a stage on which brilliant color performs. Distracting me from the enchanting performance is the insane volume of trichomes. The otherworldly distortion appears like television static. The shimmering veils of resin glands clamor up the verdant cliffs of Shishkaberry. The herb resembles a swirling night sky, globulous heads sparkle like stars upon the somber leaf.

The buds seem to struggle to grow much larger than popcorns, I readily dismiss it as an attribute of the phenotype. The modest morsels are still well worth their weight as they demonstrate ample density. One brief squeeze will quickly confirm its indica heritage as the petals refuse to forfeit any territory. The nugs do bend and squish in certain junctures, but you cannot crush the foliage without considerable effort. Almost invisible, scarce, scraggly hairs tickle out from the frozen crust. The stigmas appear to be a weathered tan, however, they are so thin it is quite difficult to tell. At times, they appear translucent. It’s time to spark up some of this distorting dank.

 

 

Leaf to flame, I am slapped by a slobbery tongue of sweet fruit and peppery, floral, fire. A quashed, flat berry closely embodies grape on the tail of the breath. Suffocated blueberry churns out strained breaths of fermented fruit on the wings of a honed sour. The grape has devolved to entertain a dispersed dimension similar to cotton candy mixed with nitrous from the dentist. I chase every link in the spiced chain of distorted fruity gas. At the base of the fragrance, I tumble with the grit of dry, dusted, earth. The benign earthy cough is intermittently emphasized by a puckering sour. As the bowl chars, the profile grows to entertain a slick, resiny finish.

As soon as I welcomed Shishkaberry into my lungs, I invited in an aggressive fog to wash over my mind. I whirled trying to find my bearings in the disorienting mist. Unable of making much progress; I convince my outdated senses to forfeit control and hold up my fate to the Gods of the new sensation. Once I made my mental ‘offering,’ the fog began to solidify and settle. I feel cool, tranquil drips run down the walls of my skull’s interior. I chase the droplets with my mind’s eye as they are drawn across the floor into a makeshift basin. I find the water has a meditative allure, as if I could focus forever on the long straws of icy discipline.

Disrupting the siren song of Shishkaberry is a spattering stream of ethereal gelatin. This sensation is exclusively physical. The amorphous invader carves a motif of flexibility into my operating system. Invisible hands toss their weight over my eyelids; though I feel like they are being drawn into my head rather than downward. My eyes sink back into my mind, which is now being stretched and kneaded like pizza dough. I feel a styrofoam numbness assert itself over my face while I explore the confines of my imagination. I extort a personal dreamscape while my body is incubated by a numbing euphoria.

There are countless charming qualities within Shishkaberry. I have to say my favorite part was the high, despite whether or not I was able to coherently describe it. The sensation was scattered and subtle in it’s onset before it coaxed me into stasis. Anyway, I think this was an awesome smoke, I just wish the buds were a little larger so we could appreciate broader displays of the vivid colors. I cannot wait to get into more Saints tomorrow! As always, thanks for reading.

Shishkaberry Total Score: 85/100 points

Stay high and stay blessed,

Kushman Bonglegs

 

 

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